


Aeaea Bar & Grill

by Immortalsane



Series: Aeaea Bar & Grill [1]
Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, Hellenistic Religion & Lore
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Animal Transformation, Blood Magic, Body Dysmorphic Disorder, Character Death, Cooking, Death, Death Wish, Dismemberment, F/M, Magic, Original Character Death(s), Pigs, Sexual Violence, Snuff, Sorceresses, Spitroasting, Transformation, Vore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 16:32:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17853173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Immortalsane/pseuds/Immortalsane
Summary: A young man with a dream hears of a very special restaurant, and goes to see if his dream can come true.





	Aeaea Bar & Grill

The sun was almost down, fading red light swallowed by shadows and yellow-orange glow of the street lights. Downtown, neon and headlights and actinic flood lamps push back the dark, a false dawn until the real one comes again. But here, in the warehouse district, the only neon hung over a modernist facade slapped onto one of the aged buildings. The facade was the sort of art deco monstrosity that designers think makes a place "edgy." The only nod to good taste in the blaring show of "artistic merit" was the neon, a single red line that swirled through classical calligraphic shapes to spell out "Aeaea Bar & Grill."

 

Harvey Dillon regarded the place dubiously. A sympathetic friend told him about it but, when his friend had described the place it had been along the lines of a classical affair, rich and understated. This...this looked like someone's vague idea of what "those darn kids" liked. Harvey shrugged and walked in. This might have been Ed's idea of a joke, frankly. But he had to know for sure. The doors were of the airlock sort, an outer and inner set, and the foyer between them was long enough that the outer doors closed completely before he reached the inner doors. He readied himself for disappointment, and pushed through. 

 

Harvey found himself at the top of a long staircase that led down to landing, out from which spread a multi-level dining area. Balconies, sunken pits, and raised platforms intermingling to form a landscape in which no one would be bothered by their neighbor, each table an island. The bones of the warehouse were evident everywhere, accents placed to highlight the beauty of the old building, rather than obscure it. At the far end of the former warehouse, a string quartet played something gentle and jazzy, while a lovely woman sang a melancholy air. Polished stone floors reflected what looked like candle light from the two huge chandeliers in the rafters, and scattered the sound of music and song into a background that whispered in the ear indistinctly. Even fainter was the susurrus of conversation from the diners, the music just loud enough to wash them out, but not loud enough to be obtrusive. The whole place had a soft, relaxed feel that suggested romance and adventure, but offered comfort and welcome.

 

He walked down the stairs, sneakers squeaking a bit on every step. At the foot of the stairs, a hostess stepped forward from a podium, pitching her voice low to cut under the music and whisper of conversation, rather than over it. "Hello, sir. Will you be dining alone this evening?"

 

Harvey blushed and gave her a sheepish smile. "Ummm...actually, I'm not here to eat. I was hoping to, um, volunteer to help in the kitchen?"

 

"Ahh, sorry," she said, grinning. She turned and pointed to a door behind her station. "Volunteers go through there."

 

"T-thanks," Harvey said. He stepped around her and walked to the door. As he opened it, he cast a nervous glance over his shoulder back at her. She winked, and made a shooing motion. Harvey's blush deepened, and he stepped through the door hurriedly. 

 

The room on the other side looked for all the world like a doctor's waiting room: a scattering of chairs that weren't really meant to be sat in for long periods, a coffee table and a pair of end tables boasting magazines reporting the scandals of the last presidency, a fake plant that wasn't fooling anyone. And, of course, an enclosed desk with a sign above it that read "Check In" with no one manning it. But what caught his eye was the window.

 

It took up most of a wall, showing a bright chamber with a low ceiling and a conveyor belt humming along instead of a floor. At the entrance point for the belt were little hanging flaps meant to keep the belt clear of debris; at the far end was a simple door, hinged to move inwards with the flow of whatever the belt carried. Harvey walked over to get a better look, and froze when the flaps moved, the belt carrying a naked young woman out into the chamber. Her hair was dark, her skin tanned, and she sported lush Monroe curves, soft and lovely. Her face was filled with anticipation, and when the belt came to a halt, she wriggled eagerly. 

 

A pair of robotic arms descended, one in front of her, one behind. The front arm had a nozzle on it that seemed vaguely phallic, a hose leading from it to a clear bottle of dark fluid the color of maple syrup. The rear arm also had a bottle, though it was empty, and the hose that led from it ended in a slim tube that Harvey guessed was at least a foot long. As he watched, the arms pressed inward, the tube entering the woman's womanhood, while the nozzle pressed between her lips and down her throat. Her eyes closed in apparent ecstasy as bubbles began to float up through the brown liquid in the front chamber, her throat working to swallow the stuff. After a moment, he watched as an opaque orange substance began to slowly fill the rear chamber. The woman wriggled again, and he started at seeing her begin to change. Her body didn't  _ melt  _ exactly; it was more as though she had been liquid in a human shaped container and the container was shifting to another shape.

 

"Fascinating, isn't it?" a female voice said from behind him. Harvey jumped. He turned to see a slender woman, wearing a doctor's coat. She had olive skin, a mass of wavy dark hair, and a dazzling smile that warmed Harvey to his core. She held out a hand. "I'm Dr. Emily Wrach. Are you here to volunteer?"

 

"H-harvey," he responded, shaking her hand briefly. "And, um, yes."

 

Dr. Wrach nodded. "Excellent. We've been a bit short since business picked up." She tilted her head to indicate the window behind him. "Do you know the process we use?"

 

Harvey shook his head. "I was...surprised to find out this was even possible."

 

"Well, we aren't exactly shouting it to the world!" she said laughing. "But essentially, we pump animal essence into the front, and suck the human essence out at the rear. When the exchange is fully complete, the volunteer is the animal that they desire to be." She glanced over his shoulder again, grinning. "Well, desire and are most compatible with. A curvy girl like that made perfect sense as beef."

 

Harvey spun around to find the chamber now held a cow. The dark liquid was nearly gone, and the bottle behind the cow had almost completely filled with the essence of human. Moments later, the arms withdrew and the newly minted cow was conveyed through the door at the far end. Harvey shivered and blushed.

 

"Umm...she couldn't see us watching her, right?" Harvey asked.

 

Dr. Wrach shook her head. "No, the window is a one way mirror. From that side, the volunteer feels as though they have absolute privacy. Now, let's go get you checked out, ok? Have to be sure you're healthy, after all."

 

Smiling shyly, Harvey nodded and followed her through a door next to the check in desk. She led him to an examination room that was normal in all respects save two: a shower and toilet in one corner, and the end of a conveyor belt poking out of the wall. The belt had a pair of hand and footprints marked on it, showing where the volunteer needed to be positioned, and a pair of lights over it, one red, one green. The sight of the belt had Harvey shaking with anticipation, but he managed to contain himself throughout the examination. Dr. Wrach checked his blood pressure, heartbeat, pulse, sight, hearing, and reflexes. She weighed him, recorded his height, used a caliper to estimate his BMI, and a tape to measure him everywhere else, as though she were fitting him for clothes. Finally, she sat down and pulled out a clipboard.

 

"Well, Harvey, everything seems to be OK so far. Just a few final questions. Have you ever been out of the country?"

 

Harvey shook his head.

 

"OK. Do you have any history of heart attack, stroke, diabetes, or cognitive impairment in your family?"

 

"Uhh...one of my cousins had a heart attack a few years ago."

 

"I see. Do you know what caused it?"

 

Harvey glanced down at his own slightly pudgy form guiltily. "He was overweight."

 

She nodded and made a note. "That shouldn't be a problem," she said, giving him a reassuring smile. "Have you ever had unprotected sex?"

 

Harvey went bright red and shook his head again. 

 

"Good, good. Last but not least, I need to be sure you know what we do here, and why you want to volunteer."

 

"I...you turn people into animals and serve them in the restaurant," Harvey whispered. "I've always...ever since I was little I've dreamed of being a pig and being eaten alive."

 

Dr. Wrach smiled mischievously. "Well, you'll be happy to know that pig is your most compatible change." She stood and placed a hand on his arm, giving it a friendly squeeze. "And you're in perfect health, good enough to eat."

 

Harvey shivered excitedly. "So what's next?"

 

She produced a syringe, and indicated he should roll up his sleeve. He obeyed, and hissed softly as she took a blood sample. She nodded at the shower. "Now, you'll need to empty yourself of waste and clean off thoroughly. Your clothes go in there," she pointed at a bin, "and then just climb onto the belt. The light will turn green when we're ready to begin processing you."

 

She picked up her clipboard again. "Is there any particular way you'd like to be served?"

 

"Ummm...spit roasted alive and served whole?" he whispered.

 

She made a note on her clipboard. "A spit roast should be easy enough, they're very popular with our customers. And we can add a little something to the essence to allow you to enjoy the experience. I can't promise you'll be served whole, however." She gave him another mischievous grin. "After all, you're going to be far too much ham for anyone to manage in one sitting!"

 

Harvey returned her grin and nodded, fidgeting with his shirt, eager to get started. Dr. Wrach gave his shoulder a squeeze. "I want to be perfectly clear: once I step out of this room, the door will lock behind me. The only way out is through the conveyor, and you won't be walking out on two legs after that. Are you absolutely certain you want to do this?"

 

"I..." Harvey turned to look at the conveyor belt. He  _ could _ go home. He was making straight A's, only a few years to go on his degree. There was a job waiting for him after school, decent salary. Some friends were talking about getting an apartment together. Someday he might find someone he liked. He could have a normal life.

 

A boring life.

 

He looked back at her, relaxing for the first time since he'd walked in. "Yes. I want to be transformed and eaten more than I've ever wanted anything else."

 

"Excellent. Have fun, and don't forget to clean out inside as well, OK?" She turned and walked out, closing the door behind her. He heard the sharp click of the lock, and shivered. No turning back now. 

 

Humming cheerfully to himself, he stripped off, looking down at himself the whole time. His somewhat pudgy legs were devoid of hair, but his groin sported a thin little thicket and a slender treasure trail crawled up his tummy to end at his navel. Aside from that, he was largely smooth. He'd always felt ambivalent towards his body. It was nice enough for a human, but...well, he'd always thought he really should be a pig. 

 

Laughing delightedly at the realization that he was going to finally look and feel right, the young volunteer tossed his clothes and possessions into the bin and stepped into the shower. He hummed the whole time, scrubbing himself thoroughly from head to toe. Cleaning out inside was an illuminating experience for Harvey, who had to try a few times before he figured out how the attachment for that worked. Having no idea just how clean was clean, he used the little nozzle several times until he expelled nothing but water.

 

He toweled dry rapidly, eyes flicking from the belt to the little light above it, anxious to be on the belt before the light changed from red to green. He settled for mostly damp, realizing that it wouldn't matter that much once he got started. Breath quickening, Harvey climbed up onto the belt, placing his hands and feet on the appropriate marks. The result left him on all fours, legs spread, and ass tilted slightly upward. He chuckled, wondering how they'd figured out the best way to manage that. He glanced at the light willing it to-

 

The light turned green. Harvey sucked in a breath as a loud buzzer sounded and the belt began to move forward. He stared at the flaps as they moved rapidly closer, panting. They touched his face and he closed his eyes as they brushed roughly over him, the heavy plastic parting grudgingly to admit him. He opened his eyes again, but the belt was taking him through a tunnel. It crawled on, the darkness turning absolute as the belt gently curved around. A second curve brought in more light, and he could see another set of flaps over the opening ahead. It was all he could do not to dance, and he suddenly understood why the girl he'd watched being transformed had wiggled so much. How could he not, with this much glee flooding him?

 

The flaps once again parted to let him through, though these were much softer than the first. As he entered the brightly lit transformation chamber, they clung to him, caressing his skin. He glanced at the mirror to his right, wondering if there was anyone watching him as he gave up his humanity. The belt stopped and his eyes locked onto the door in the ceiling that held his fate. He didn't have to wait long. 

 

The door clanked open as the sound of another buzzer filled the chamber. The nozzle descended towards his lips and he opened his mouth wide to accept it as it slid into his throat. He'd expected to gag, but aside from a faint tingling, it was no more difficult than taking a long drink. Harvey adjusted to the odd sensation of his throat being stretched just in time to jerk when the tube behind him vacuumed up his manhood. The tank over his head  _ glorped _ as the liquid inside began to flow down into him, and he swallowed reflexively. Simultaneously, the tube behind him started to rhythmically pulse, sucking the human out of him in short bursts.

 

After the first few swallows, his belly began to feel warm, as though he'd drunk a tumbler of hard cider. An electric buzz flowed through him, spreading from his throat and stomach. He jerked, moaning around the nozzle as his body began to feel soft and pliable. The sensation on his cock was intense, each spurt of fluid pumping out of it sending a bolt of shock through him that made his insides feel liquid and strange. He could feel his hands, feet, and knees pooling slightly, flattening out onto the conveyor belt as his skin joined the rest of him in softening. 

 

He suckled greedily at the nozzle in his throat. His whole body felt like he was being massaged inside and out, and he was eager to enhance the sensations, driving towards a high he hadn't ever imagined. A small squeal escaped his lips when he began to swell, expanding and changing. His hands shrank, folding into themselves, while his legs were being sucked up into his body. His ass and thighs inflated even as his calves and feet spindled down. But most exciting for him were the moments between his face beginning to change and his brain catching up to it. For a few glorious moments, he could see a snout pushing out and taking shape.  **_My_ ** _ snout!  _ he thought excitedly, giving out an ecstatic squeal.

 

The final few gulps were almost anticlimactic. His new body began to settle, the wonderful liquid feelings inside him subsiding. There was one more surprise, however, when his tail popped out at the last moment, making him jump with the suddenness. It felt as though he'd been sharply smacked on the butt!

 

The arms withdrew, and he turned to look at the mirror, eager to see himself. A handsome young pig looked back, white fur dappled with brown spots the same color as his human hair had been. His snout was prominent, but well-shaped, mouth curling up into a piggy smile. His eyes weren't as close set as he'd expected, and his ears stood up cheerfully. Overall, his new face seemed friendly, intelligent, and happy. He grunted contentedly as the conveyor belt chugged into motion, carrying him through the metal door at the far end. 

 

He blinked in surprise at seeing the conveyor belt split off into multiple lines. A sorter slid across the belt, herding him off onto another track. Harvey looked around curiously, watching the other empty belts chug along beside him. He wondered if there was ever a time when they were all filled. The belt carried him through another set of flaps and popped him out into a kennel. He trotted around sniffing the air and taking in his surroundings. 

 

Just beyond the bars of his kennel was an industrial kitchen. He smelled steak, and flashed back to the young girl turning into a cow. There were several other kennels around him, some empty, some with other animals in them. There were chefs moving around, preparing food, and towards the back of the kitchen he saw a goat being butchered. He shuffled in place, curious as to how long he'd be waiting before they came for him. While he was eager to be enjoyed, he was just happy to finally feel right in his body.

 

He flopped over, squirming to get comfortable. He closed his eyes, sighing happily. 

 

"Hello, piggy."

 

Harvey opened his eyes to find a huge man in chef's whites leering at him. He oinked, trying to make it a question.

 

"Yes, piggy, it's time. You know how lucky you are? Some animals spend  _ weeks _ in these kennels before a customer orders them the way they want." He straightened up, opening the kennel door. Harvey rolled onto his feet unsteadily, not quite used to maneuvering with four legs yet. "Sometimes we even end up just butchering them."

 

Harvey froze and backed up uncertainly. The chef roared with laughter. "Come on, piggy. Got a nice spit for you."

 

Ears perking, Harvey stepped forward hesitantly. The chef rolled his eyes and slapped his hand on top of the kennel. "Move, dammit."

 

Jumping at the sudden noise, Harvey quickly stepped out of the kennel. The chef dropped a lead around his neck and walked over to a preparation area, tugging Harvey along with him. "Stand there," he instructed, pointing at a section of the floor that was steel instead of the surrounding tile. Harvey squealed in surprise when it began to vibrate, lifting him up on a jack until he was at countertop level. 

 

The chef nodded. "Good. Stay still."

 

Harvey nodded, and grunted humorously at the thought of a pig nodding. The chef picked up a razor and began swiftly removing his lovely fur. Harvey felt a bit sad at losing it after such a brief acquaintance with it, but the thought of the spit consoled him. The chef was thorough and professional, managing to completely de-fur the pig in 15 minutes. He then put on gloves and rubbed something onto him, working front to back, that made Harvey's skin tingle. After removing his gloves, and rinsing his hands, the chef slowly rinsed off Harvey. His touch made the pig's skin twitch, and Harvey realized it must have been some sort of hair removal cream, if the smoothness of his skin against the chef's palm was any indication.

 

The chef gave him a playful slap on the ass and stood back. "Good enough to eat. Now lay down and hold still, or this will be over a lot quicker than you'd like."

 

Harvey obediently flopped over again, panting eagerly. The chef held a long spit where he could see it, and the pig gave an excited squeal. Grinning, the chef walked around behind him. He braced himself, waiting for the feeling of-

 

"REEEEE!" The chef hadn't bothered with niceties. A foot of the thing had been shoved into him in one go, and while the stretching actually felt pretty good, it was  _ cold _ . He looked back at the chef, giving him a reproachful look as only a pig can. The man laughed.

 

"Oh, I'm sorry your highness, must've forgotten to warm the spit we'll be  _ roasting _ you on." Still chuckling, the man gave the spit a turn and Harvey grunted, eyes closing in pleasure at the feeling. "Now put your head back down, I have two more feet of pig to shove this thing through."

 

Harvey relaxed and waited. The spit moving inside him was strange: a second or two of pressure building up, followed by the feeling of his insides giving way before the relentless steel. His eyes widened when it hit the back of his throat, but he opened his mouth for it. The spit slid out, and he sighed contentedly as more and more metal entered and exited his body. His hind legs were grabbed and tugged into place by a crossbar before being tied to it. The chef walked around in front of him and slid another crossbar through a hole in the spit, then tied Harvey's forelegs into place.

 

"Mmm...I do love a good pig roast," the chef said, smiling. He turned and yelled over his shoulder. "OK, boys, take him out!"

 

Harvey's ears waggled in confusion as a pair of sous chefs picked up either end of his spit and carried him out of the kitchen. Wait, where were they taking him? He was supposed to be cooking now! 

 

They carried him through a pair of swinging doors and a smattering of applause heralded him. As the chefs swung around, he relaxed. Hidden from the main door by one of the rises in the floor was a small roasting grotto. Harvey smiled around the spit and wriggled eagerly. He was going to be dinner and a show!

 

They set him over the gray red coals, the heat instantly assaulting the newly minted pig. He shuddered, grunting and snorting as the spit began to turn, spreading the heat evenly. Dr. Wrach hadn't been lying when she said that he would enjoy being cooked! It was almost like being back in the transformation chamber, as waves of heat poured through him, softening his layers of fat and changing him from a pig into a collection of ham. He half-closed his eyes and settled in to cook. He lost track of time, caught up in feeling himself stiffen up and lose sensation from the outside in until finally, he was unable to move at all. 

 

The chefs lifted him out of the grotto and laid him on a platter. The ropes were cut away, the crossbars removed, and an apple was placed in his mouth. He heard people applauding again as he was laid out on a buffet, a chef taking his place behind Harvey, knives at the ready. Harvey felt a little burst of pleasure when the chef began to carve into his hock, filleting it into slices without removing them. He'd hoped to be served whole, but this buffet business was just fine with him. Especially, he thought as each stroke of the knife through his belly produced another flash of pleasure, since every slice was better than sex!

 

Diners began to line up for a slice of the young pig, and Harvey made another wonderful discovery: even after the chef sliced off a chunk of him and put it on a plate, he could still feel it. The feeling of being cut up by a single knife was intense; the feeling of dozens slicing him into bite-sized pieces was nearly orgasmic, and there was no "nearly" when it came to the feeling of being chewed and swallowed. 

 

Harvey drifted in his own private heaven, barely aware as more and more of him was sliced away. Diners came back for seconds and thirds of the succulent former boy, and he urged them on in his mind, knowing it had to end sometime, but wishing he could feel teeth and knives and throats cutting and grinding and swallowing him forever.

 

Two hours later, Harvey felt himself slipping away. His legs were gone, his torso nearly so. Even his head had been eviscerated, his tongue and cheeks claimed by an older man who'd opined that they were some of the most flavorful parts of the animal.

 

As he settled happily into darkness, Harvey only hoped that if there was a heaven, he'd be allowed to stay the pig he should always have been and fulfill his glorious purpose as food for eternity.

 

~~~~~

 

Emily Wrach sat in the high balcony, watching Harvey enjoy himself. She'd tasted a ham steak cut from him, and smiled at sensing the boy's bliss. Not every transformee took so readily to the essence, but Harvey really had been a pig trapped in a human body, it seemed.

 

She swirled her wine, feeling the familiar sense of annoyance and emptiness inside as Harvey slipped away. She glanced at the remains of the pig on the buffet and sighed. She enjoyed the cows, goats, sheep, even the occasional chicken or turkey that came through, although in this day and age persons small enough to make good birds were rare. But pigs had a certain sentimental appeal to her, and always, it was the pigs that went fastest. She so rarely got to spend time with them in the kitchens, though most lost so much of their mental faculties when transformed that on the few occasions she did get to enjoy her lovely little porkers' company, it was simply frustrating.

 

She raised her glass to the pig's remains. "To Harvey. A proper pig."

 

After tossing the wine back she stared into the glass moodily. "Pity he went so soon."

 

Footsteps sounded behind her. "Another fine transformation, Lady Ci-"

 

Emily's irritation flared and she snapped her fingers. Her head chef cursed softly in Greek as he was subjected to the feeling of his shin being kicked. " _ Emily _ . Doctor Wrach if you're feeling formal. How many times must I tell you that, Tan?"

 

Tan limped forward, scowling. "As long as you keep using that stupid nickname."

 

She chuckled darkly and set her glass on the table before fixing him with a gimlet glare. "I can put you back where I found you, you know. My cousin still talks about you."

 

He blanched, hands going to his ample stomach. "You wouldn't."

 

"He still keeps the lake around. Says it reminds him of better days," she said, giving him an acid sweet smile. "Days when he could remind his wife of what happens to people that hurt his mother-in-law."

 

Tan shuddered. "My apologies L...doctor."

 

Emily glared at him for a moment longer, then sighed. "No, Tan, I'm sorry. I'm simply in a mood." She waved at the chair next to her, and Tan gratefully sank into it, rubbing his aching shin. "Shortening your name works these days. Mine is...simply too recognizable."

 

"Thankfully the name of this place isn't a massive screaming beacon," Tan retorted sarcastically, helping himself to a glass of wine.

 

Emily laughed softly. "We all have our little conceits, Tan." She looked pointedly at his gut. "Or not so little, in your case."

 

"All right, out with it," Tan said with a grin. "Sarcasm, swift retaliation for tiny slights, rapid mood swings. It's like you're one of your cousins." He took a sip of wine, rolling it around in his mouth to appreciate it. 

 

She flushed. "I am  _ not _ acting like my cousins, you awful little-" she broke off and sighed. "Well, perhaps I am, a bit."

 

"You're brooding. The last time you acted this way, we had to relocate after you inevitably exploded." He followed her gaze down to where the remains of Harvey were being cleared away. "Ahh. What  _ is  _ it with you and pigs?"

 

Her hand settled at her side, stroking a simple glass jar. "Better days," she whispered. "Better days, Tan."

 

"So fix it."

 

Emily blinked. "Are you mad? My cousin-"

 

"Won't mind," Tan said. He sat back with a smile. "You have the boy's humanity, yes? I doubt he'd mind in the slightest, since the parts he cares about are in a jar in your office."

 

"He might let it slide once perhaps, but even if I do 'fix' it, the boy-"

 

Tan sighed. "Just mix a touch of the special stuff into the essence."

 

Emily frowned, mouth working. "Tan, that's blasphemy."

 

The chef laughed and pushed himself to his feet. "Remember how I  _ met  _ your cousin? Seriously, either just fix it or stop brooding. We haven't paid off the mortgage on this place yet."

 

As her friend turned and walked away, Emily stared into space. She lifted the glass jar beside her into her lap, and stroked it, watching the opaque orange liquid slosh gently. She could manage it, of course. A phone call, a few hours of work...and just a bit of...

 

"Blasphemy," she whispered. "And yet..."


End file.
